Fic: mint toothpaste [Blue Lock]

[shroomystar]

Written for bllk polyship weekend and 100ships prompt #08 Mint.

Title: mint toothpaste
Rating: Explicit
Category: Multi (M/M/M)
Fandom: Blue Lock
Author: shroomy(y)star
Ship/Characters: Bachira Meguru/Isagi Yoichi/Itoshi Rin
Warnings/Notes: isbcrn. post-canon, established relationship, polyamory, living together, outercourse. it's not entirely explicitly said and mostly alluded to but bachira and rin are both trans here.
Word Count: 2255
[100ships table]

It tastes like mint toothpaste; Rin’s mouth and Isagi’s breath, and both of them intertwined. It’s the same brand, too, isn’t it? Somewhere very far away, Bachira wonders if he tastes like it, as well. If they all do.

It’s a silly question. It’s the same brand, because they all live together, and because they do all use the same tube of toothpaste. Obviously Bachira tastes like it, too. For a moment, he is nearly inclined to kiss both of them real slow, to try and make out the subtle differences; to pinpoint where their unique tastes lie, if any, and how they interact with the toothpaste and each other.

As with so many things, however, he ends up distracted. Pity.

Rin bites. He’s quite ferocious with it, and for a moment, Bachira is pretty sure his bottom lip is just going to go pop like overripe fruit, right there between Rin’s teeth, but that’s when Rin unlatches, hissing. Because Isagi has fisted his hand into his hair and is now yanking at it, it seems.

“Will you play nice,” Isagi hisses right back. Bachira laughs. His lip is a little sore; there’s a tang of metal next to the mint, now.

“I don’t mind!”

“Of course you don’t,” Rin scowls, mouthing at Bachira’s jaw, disregarding Isagi still pulling at his hair. Relishing it, rather. “Masochist slut.”

“You’re the masochist, Rin-chan!”

“A slut, too.”

This time, Rin attempts to bite Isagi, instead. Really lunges for him, and all that entails: with drool dripping down his chin and a fast movement that makes the bed underneath them creak, that makes a rather inelegant yelp spill out of Isagi. That makes Isagi flinch, flinch back, then remember he still has his hand in Rin’s hair, and attempt to yank him back by it. It’s really funny to watch, actually.

Bachira has always enjoyed watching them, these two monsters at work. It tastes all the more sweet when he’s right in the middle of it, when the warm feeling of keeping up with them spreads in him, whole. Sometimes, he even dances ahead.

One of them is always a little ahead. They’re always catching up to each other as well, though. It’s the beauty of all of this, Bachira thinks.

Well, that and the teeth. The teeth are a lot of the beauty of this, to be fair.

They’re getting ahead again, though, the two of them; Isagi yanking and Rin snapping. Spinning around each other, around and around and around, forever, and it’s beautiful to watch them, these two monsters in their element. Bachira won’t let himself be left behind again, however. They’re not allowed to forget about him!

Bachira surges up, too, and bites into the apple of Rin’s cheek since that’s the first thing within reach. Isagi yelps again, this time half a laugh. And Rin…

Rin hisses like a cat—always like a kitty cat!—and swipes in Bachira’s direction like he actually has claws. Which he doesn’t, luckily, because otherwise there’d be a big chunk of Bachira’s face missing. And Isagi would likely already be dead! Ah, but it would be fun, wouldn’t it… Pet kitty Rin-chan prowling around the apartment… Sunning in the warm spots where the sun streaks through the windows and breaking food bowls when the kibble is not up to his standards… Something like that. Cute, cute, cute.

Rin still manages to make Bachira unlatch; still manages to tip Bachira’s balance enough he drops back into the bed with a giggle. “Jesus, Bachira!” Isagi says, but he’s still almost-laughing, too, so Rin glares at them both.

“C’mere, monsters,” Bachira chirps before they can get into another bout, stretching out both of his arms for them, fingers wagging.

They’re in their bed in their apartment, and they all taste like the same toothpaste. There’s nothing else one could want, is there? Well, unless they could all start playing football right this moment… With the bed in the way, that could be fun…

He’s rather violently shook out of his musing with two starkly contrasting sensations: something sharp and something soft. Rin’s teeth in one cheek and Isagi’s lips on the other, he realizes; but none is less strong: where Rin grinds his jaw just a little, threatens to break skin, Isagi crowds closer, closer, closer, his breath fanning over Bachira’s skin, his mouth opening ever so slightly, searing hot. Bachira giggles again.

There’s something he wants to say, almost lightheaded. Something bubbling at the back of his throat like the champagne he had at the last sponsor event, where he ended up stripping in front of everyone. That was all over the internet for ages, tell you what!

There’s something he wants to say, but he never gets to, and it disappears into thin air; there’s Isagi and there’s Rin, right there, right there, right there, and for a moment, they’re a tangle of limbs on the—luckily rather large—bed, and no matter how Bachira squirms, he doesn’t seem to be able to get out of it. Perhaps he doesn’t want to in the first place, however.

There’s a hand at the front of his boxers, pressing, another over his chest, then his collarbone, then his throat. He squeezes at someone’s ass and brushes fingers through someone’s hair. It’s glorious. It’s perfect. It’s everything.

It’s not exactly harmonious. Bunch of egoists is what they are, after all; they’ll be lucky if there’s much more left than bones, after.

Somehow, they do manage, though: until the last bits of their clothes are shed—underwear, and Isagi’s shirt—until Rin has rolled on top of Bachira, face twisted into a snarl as these things tend to go with him. He’s really cute, Bachira thinks, distinctly, as his hot breath fans over Bachira’s face, as he licks up Bachira’s cheekbone, tongue slippery.

Isagi doesn’t say anything, not yet, though he’s actually even faster than Rin to complain about being left out. The biggest egoist of them all, after all!

Isagi doesn’t say anything, but from how Bachira sees his silhouette move behind Rin, this is probably due to the fact that he’s slotting neatly behind the two of them. His knee brushes Bachira’s thigh. Giddiness bubbles up in Bachira’s chest, right behind his sternum, fizzing into his extremities.

Rin kisses him, taking all of his focus, all at once. He’s greedy with it, he always is—they all are, Bachira supposes—ravenous in a way that just makes delight dance in every one of Bachira’s cells even more. Grunts out a surprised noise when Bachira lunges for him, when Bachira wraps his arms around his neck to pull him down closer, closer, closer, to suck Rin’s bottom lip between his. In the air, Rin’s hips twitch. Head spinning, Bachira wonders if Isagi is grinding against him from behind. He’s hot, hot, hot all over.

“My turn,” says Isagi, voice hoarse, patience apparently all burnt away already. So rude! So eager!

He pushes Rin’s head aside—Bachira can’t exactly see it right, but he thinks his hand might be fisted into the side of Rin’s hair—and leans down to kiss Bachira, too, making Bachira giggle. Rin is hissing something, but when Bachira blinks and looks down between them, there’s Isagi’s hand rubbing up Rin’s chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake, Rin’s nipples pebbled, so there’s not all that much to complain about, Bachira supposes. Nudges his body up towards Rin’s; he wants to be touched, too! Kissing is nice, but…!

But, but, but. Rin gets nudged down against him, chest to chest, face buried in the mattress next to Bachira, panting angrily and heavily and hot, hot, hot. His hair tickles the side of Bachira’s face. Isagi pulls back with a grin, and those wide eyes that make Bachira shudder.

It’s the best, really. All of it is the best: Rin’s warm skin, Rin’s seething breath, the way Rin trembles just a little, shudders wrecking through him, too, perhaps in arousal (cute!); Isagi’s stare, Isagi nudging down against them, Isagi moving to bite at the apple of Bachira’s cheek as if in revenge. As if all of this is all teeth, and in a way, Bachira supposes it is.

Isagi slots his cock between them. Rin’s back arches, as if to escape it—“You filthy pervert, what do you think you’re doing,” hisses Rin, like he didn’t get naked and in bed like the rest of them, too, and Bachira snickers, tilts his head to nudge a kiss to Rin’s cheekbone, making Rin hiss again, his ear burning bright red against the black of his hair—but Isagi nudges it back down with a hand on his lower back. Over Rin’s shoulder like this, backlit by the ceiling light, Isagi looks…

He pushes his hair out of his face, purses his lips in thought, but there’s such smugness in his eyes that Bachira squirms.

“What are you waiting for, egoist?” he says. “Won’t you devour us…?”

“Will you speak for yourself, you slime,” hisses Rin.

Isagi doesn’t say anything at all. Leans in, still that look in his eyes, to bite at Rin’s shoulder, too, until Rin is twitching, shifting against Bachira, skin on skin on skin. It’s all quite heavy, Rin’s weight and some of Isagi’s weight, but Bachira thinks he wouldn’t want it any other way. Bachira thinks that it’s quite perfect.

His cock is throbbing already, too. The angle is a little awkward; not enough stimulation unless everything perfectly aligns, which things so rarely do, but the psychology of it all…

Okay, perhaps psychology is a big word. It’s just hot, isn’t it; pressed together, with Isagi between them, with Isagi looming over them both… With the scent of Rin’s hair and the heat of Rin’s skin on his—something Rin always insists is disgusting, but he’s always squirming and gasping for it, anyway!—with them separated only by Isagi’s cock…

It probably feels awkward for Isagi, too, but that does not seem to stop him. No, he pulls back and fucks between them just as Bachira wraps his arms around Rin’s neck, just as Bachira tilts his head to lick at Rin’s red-flushed ear. Rin twitches. Cute, cute, cute.

Then, however, Rin lifts his head, tilts it like he’s trying to look at Isagi—spit some more bile, probably; cute, cute, cute—and Bachira yanks at him to stop him. “Ah,” he breathes, watches the way the edges of Rin’s mouth curl. “C’mon, don’t look at him, Rin-chan, look at me instead, okay? C’mere.”

Rin is seething, but he always is. Nudges his forehead down against Bachira’s perhaps more roughly than is appropriate, glaring down at him with grit teeth. Bachira sticks out his tongue to poke it against his lip just as Isagi takes his place and bites at the shell of Rin’s ear. When Rin moans, Bachira pushes his tongue inside; where Rin is hot and wet, wet, wet. Teamwork works out beautifully like that, doesn’t it?

“Fuck, you guys are so hot,” Isagi groans, his cock sliding between them, again and again and again. It feels strange, but exciting, too; hard and hot and pressed so close. Bachira preens.

As if he can’t have that—he’s probably grossed out about hearing this, too, which is kind of funny; why’s he doing this with them anyhow if that’s how he feels, huh—Rin kisses Bachira in earnest again. With how close he is, he’s all blurry, and Bachira can’t see anything else, either. There’s mint on his tongue and mint in Rin’s eyes and he can still tell that Rin is still staring at him with them wide open. He usually tends to. Bachira shudders underneath it.

It’s perfect. It’s always perfect; whether writhing on the sheets or tangling on the pitch. It’s always perfect, with Bachira and his monsters. Isagi squeezes at Bachira’s hip and Rin sucks at Bachira’s tongue, and everything is spinning with it. Bachira can feel his heartbeat in his dick.

Rin yelps—cute—head tilting, and when Bachira blinks, he thinks Isagi is yanking at Rin’s hair again. His thrusts get a little sloppy for a moment or two, his breathing fast, but then he’s leaning in, nudging all of their mouths together—he’s so greedy, so greedy!—even though that decidedly works out even less well than the whole positioning as it already is. It doesn’t matter: there’s Isagi warm mouth and Rin’s sharp teeth and Bachira simply blindly pushes his tongue into the battlefield.

It’s the visual, probably—though it’s lacking right now; perhaps, rather, the whole situation, psychologically, in general—more than any physical sensation, but Isagi moans, shudders—skin against skin with Rin’s ass, nudging and pressing—his cock twitching between them as he comes, spilling hotly all over Bachira’s stomach, and smearing onto Rin’s, too.

Isagi’s breath is scalding between their mouths as he pants, his cock giving a few more throbs. Bachira’s cock is throbbing, too; leaking so much that the very insides of his thighs are all slippery-wet. Rin brushes his nose along Bachira’s, lashes brushing Bachira’s cheek with how close he is, with how long they are. Though blurry, Bachira thinks he can make out the flick of Rin’s eyes; the way he’s glancing back at Isagi with that withering stare of his.

“Seems like we’ll have to devour him next,” says Rin, voice hoarse. “Pathetic weakling.”

And yeah, yeah, yeah. Giddiness bubbles up in Bachira’s chest, right behind his sternum. It’s everywhere.